


Comforting the Detective Inspector

by scribblingnellie (onegirlandherpen)



Series: The Detective Inspector [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Comfort, Domestic, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Exhausted Lestrade, F/M, Home, Hugs, Kissing, Lestrade's had a bad day, POV Original Female Character, POV Second Person, Silver Fox Lestrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-02
Updated: 2018-06-02
Packaged: 2019-05-17 11:33:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14831495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onegirlandherpen/pseuds/scribblingnellie
Summary: Greg Lestrade's had a horrible day at the Yard. A hug, a kiss, and a whisky is just what he needs.





	Comforting the Detective Inspector

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted in 2017. Title inspired by all those fabulous Mills and Boon titles that I get to work with all day! Reposting.

The sound of footsteps outside makes you look up from your book. Definitely Greg. Checking the clock over the mantel - just gone 10pm, but then you knew he'd be late. Pushing yourself up off the sofa you hear his key in the lock and the door swinging open.

'Evening handsome,' you call out, crossing the front room towards the doorway.

But you stop short as you step into the hall; Greg's slumped against the closed front door, his face drained. Your stomach twists as he looks up at you, his eyes troubled.  Oh god, what's happened?

'Greg, what's wrong?'

Without removing his coat, he's reaching for you. Two steps and he's putting his arms around you. His hug is hard, desperate, crushing you against him, like he's hanging on for dear life. Instinctively, your arms wrap around his back, under his jacket, your hands rubbing him as he breathes in deeply. His hand starts to  caress your neck and you squeeze him tighter.

'I'm sorry.' A rough whisper in your ear. '..I'm sorry. Bad day.'

'You never need to be sorry, love. Never.'

Pulling back, you reach up and brush the gorgeous silver strands off his face. Touching his cheek, you smile at the tickle of stubble. His eyes, sad and pained, roam over your face, his fingers brush along your neck and up into your hair, almost like he's checking that you're real.

Closing his eyes, Greg leans his forehead against yours, his hands slip down around your waist, hugging  you into him once more. 'God, you feel good.'

His arms tighten, his head moves back and then he's looking at you - his eyes searching yours, looking for something. You smile as you look into those beautiful deep brown eyes. And then he's holding your face, tilting you up to meet his lips. They're cold but soft and Greg's kissing you so intently, like your kiss will clear away the wretchedness of his day. His mouth lingers, his hands back to slowly stroking along your neck. Goosebumps prickle along your skin and you deepen the kiss, standing on your tiptoes, your hands stroking through his hair. You feel him respond, feel his body pressing firmly against yours, a low, sexy moan in his throat, which makes your knees feel just a little wobbly.

Suddenly he breaks away, his eyes mortified as he covers his face with his hands. 'God, I'm sorry.' His voice raw and muffled.

'Greg?' This tangle of emotions makes your heart ache. You reach out, touch his arm, feel the tension in him. 'Please, love.'

Scrubbing over his face, he drops his hands by his side, and stares at you. And your insides melt at those beautiful eyes, full of apologies and love.

'Sorry, shit day. Didn't mean to, you know, be so... intense.'

Reaching out to him, you take his hand, bringing to up to your lips and kissing it slowly. When you look up, Greg's smiling so gorgeously, your heart jumps and then he's quickly wrapping you back in his arms, light kisses along your forehead.

'Thank you,' he says, his mouth ghosting over your skin.

'Anytime. Whisky?'

'Definitely.'

'Go sit, I'll get you one.'

Letting you go, his fingers trace tenderly along your jaw and over your cheek, tickling your skin and making you shiver. You can't help reaching up to touch his lips, letting him grasp your fingers and kiss them. He's still smiling as he leans down; another kiss on your lips and your knees have definitely turned to jelly. When he kisses you like that - soft, tender, with a hint of raw sexiness - you'd happily get him whatever he wanted.

***

 

With a glass of his favourite Macallan - a double - in your hand, you return from the kitchen to find Greg already slumped into the sofa, his head resting against the back; his jacket slung over the armchair, shoes and tie abandoned on the floor. His eyes are closed, hand caught in his hair. You pause in the doorway; he looks so  tired and worn out, and your heart aches at the thought. Greg's had cases before that've taken their toll on him, emotionally and physically, but you've never seen him so exhausted.

'Hey.' Speaking quietly so as not to startle him, you walk into the front room.

Greg opens his eyes and rolls his head to look over at you. That faint smile on his beautiful mouth lightens his face.

'Hey.' He's sitting up, scruffing his hair as he watches you walk across the room.

Proffering the glass, you sit down on the sofa as he takes it from you. Nestling next to him, loving the warm, strong feel of his body as his arm goes straight around you.

'Thank you.' And he drains the whisky in one gulp. Squeezing his eyes shut, Greg shakes his head as the strong liquid hits him. 'Ach! That's better.'

Leaning away, his arm sliding from your shoulder, he reaches back and deposits the glass on the side table. As he sits back up, his face a little less pained, you hold open your arms; this gorgeous, decent man needs a hug.

'Come here.'

Smiling, he willingly acquiesces, tucking his body into yours as you gather him into your arms. He nuzzles into the curve of your neck, his cool nose pressing against your skin. Your hands go straight to his hair - you love running your fingers through it, feeling him shiver as your nails skim along his scalp.

'Hmmf.' The huff of breath delicious across your skin.

'Better?'

Feeling him nod into your neck. 'God, yes.'

His hand starts rubbing your thigh up and down gently, his thumb making little circles, tingling your skin  through your trousers. It's relaxing, and very sexy. As are the small subtle kisses on your neck. His hand starts to feel heavier, slower; the kisses stop. A faint snore escapes his mouth.

Oh. You feel  that sweet hit in your heart; he's fallen asleep in your arms. Slowly taking your hand from his hair, not wanting to disturb his peace, you wrap your arm gently back around him. His body is so snug and comfy. With the soothing rise and fall of his chest, warm breath tickling your skin, the scent of whisky and shampoo and the sneaky cigarette you know he's had before getting into his car that evening, you let yourself sink into a feeling of seriously contented happiness.

Resting your head against his, you close your eyes. You'll wake him in a bit. Maybe.

*****  
  



End file.
